


Crackle

by themoononastick



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoononastick/pseuds/themoononastick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen do London. And each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crackle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to zelda_zee for the beta.

Jensen looks good. Face flushed and sheened with sweat, eyes closed and lips parted as he leans his head against the wall behind him and struggles to bring his breathing back to its normal rhythm. Jared is pretty sure Jensen should always look this way. It suits him.

"You look fucked."

Jensen doesn’t bother opening his eyes, just arches an eyebrow and curves his lips into a lop-sided smile, half sneer, half amusement, a combination that always makes Jared want to kiss the sarcasm right off his face.

"Yeah, whatever, so do you. Next time someone tells us we can take an elevator instead of the stairs, I’m gonna take them up on their offer. There were like, what, a thousand steps or something?"

Jared grins at Jensen’s over-exaggeration, then leans in a little closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"I mean you look _fucked_."

That gets him a response, Jensen’s eyes snap open and his head turns so they’re eye to eye.

"You shouldn’t say shit like that. We’re in a church."

Jared smiles to himself but doesn’t say anything more. If Jensen wants to play at being innocent and pure, he’ll let him. He’ll just content himself with remembering the last time Jensen looked like he does now – early this morning when jet lag had them firmly in its grip and the only cure for insomnia was to fuck until exhaustion finally dragged them down into sleep. Jared closes his eyes and leans back against the wall, the memory so sharp in his mind that he swears he can feel the heat of Jensen’s skin against his own, taste him on his tongue and hear Jensen’s voice, ragged and breathless, as he cried out his name.

He read somewhere that men think about sex every seven seconds. It seemed ridiculous at the time but now he thinks it might be true – or at least it is when he’s with Jensen. The attraction between them is like static on a radio, always there but not always noticeable, and only needing the slightest shift for it to spike and drown out everything around it. All it needs is the brush of a hand on his shoulder or a look held just a little longer than necessary, and Jared’s world is lost in the hiss and crackle of need and want and _now_. He’s used to it, he’s learned how to ignore it, how to dial it down so that the radio station of the world around him plays clearly, albeit a little fuzzily, and he can get on with what he’s supposed to be doing. But it’s still there beneath the surface, building little by little throughout the day, and Jared wouldn’t want it any other way.

"I said you _shouldn’t_ say shit like that, I didn’t say don’t."

Jared laughs and the sound echoes around the space they’re sitting in, breaking into the hushed atmosphere and making him feel self-conscious and guilty for disturbing other people’s quiet. Beside him, Jensen is laughing too, silently though, keeping it all inside instead of letting it ring out. But Jared can feel it in the shake of the arm that rests against his, Jensen’s amusement communicated through touch rather than sound. He takes a moment to enjoy the feel of it before digging his elbow into Jensen’s ribs in reproach and trying to turn the grin that threatens to split his face in two into something that at least resembles annoyance.

Jared leans closer again so his mouth is just a hair’s breadth away from Jensen’s ear, knowing that the feel of his breath will send a shiver down Jensen’s spine.

"You want me to talk dirty to you in a church? That’s pretty sick even for you." He leans closer still, his lips brushing Jensen’s ear now so that he has to fight back the urge to bite his earlobe, "You want me to tell you how I was thinking about the bruises I have on my hips, and how it was your fingers digging into me that put them there? Or how I got hard in the shower this morning when I saw them, even though you’d just woken me up by blowing me with those perfect cock-sucking lips of yours? Or how all I really want to do right now is find some dark, secluded corner and drag you into it and turn every dirty little fantasy I’ve ever had in my life into a reality?"

Jensen is statue-like in his stillness. The only thing betraying his calm is the way that his breath hitches as he draws it in. Jared sits back and smiles to himself, taking in the eyes squeezed shut and the hands balled into fists, resting on top of Jensen’s thighs as he fights to keep control of himself and not let the arousal that Jared knows must be coursing through him show. He’s about to lean in close again to see just how far he can take this little game, when the moment is broken by the arrival of the camera crew that’s been shadowing them all day. Jared nudges Jensen then slips back into his TV face, bright and cheery, with just a hint of cheekiness. Beside him, Jensen shakes his head to clear it and then does the same.

The director is apologising for taking so long to join them, saying that there was a problem with filming permission but that it’s all sorted out now, Jared smiles and nods at the appropriate moments, but he isn’t really listening, there’s still static fogging his hearing and he doesn’t really want to fade it out just yet. He can still feel the warmth of Jensen’s body pressing against him as they sit side by side, and he would rather focus on that than whatever the hell the man is talking about. For the first time since they made it to the top of the seemingly never-ending stairs, Jared lets his gaze roam around the space they’re sitting in. The dome of St Paul’s Cathedral curves high above them, adorned with intricate mosaics of saints and prophets, and all around the gallery people sit in small groups discussing the beauty that surrounds them in hushed voices, storing memories to take home and share with their friends.

They’ve been in London for three days now and all they’ve seen are the inside of hotel rooms and TV studios, their time taken up by interviews and filming promotional spots for channels they are never going to watch. Even today’s tour of the best that London has to offer in shopping and history has been nothing more than an extended interview – the boys from Supernatural having fun in the English capital, all false smiles and painted-on interest. It’s a shame, really. He‘d like to be able to spend some time actually enjoying the places they’re being dragged to, but it isn’t to be. Still, once they’re done here, they’ve just got a quick visit to the Tower of London and then they’re free for the rest of the night and, as far as Jared is concerned, the night can’t come quickly enough.

Jensen’s elbow digging into his ribs tells him that he should be paying attention, so Jared stops the thoughts of what the evening will bring before they take hold, and focuses back on the director as he rambles on about what he wants them to do.

"I thought we could get some shots of the two of you whispering into the walls and seeing if you can hear each other." The man stops and sighs at their confused faces, realising that they haven’t been listening to a word he said. "It’s called _The Whispering Gallery_ because something in its construction means that if you whisper something against the wall it can be heard all the way over on the other side."

Jared feels the blood drain from his face as he remembers what he was doing only moments ago, his eyes darting from face to face as he tries to work out if any of the Cathedral’s visitors heard more than he wanted them to. Beside him Jensen starts to laugh before getting a hold on himself and asking the director an inane question about lighting in order to give Jared the time to get himself together. Jared takes a deep breath, snaps back into focus and hopes the whispering thing is just a myth.

***

The hotel room is nice, really nice. Light and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall, looking out onto a view of the Thames, the sharp lines of Tower Bridge stretching out across the water from right beside the building.

But Jared isn’t looking at that view. His eyes are fixed on another one, this one framed by a door instead of a window, but just as picture perfect. Lying on his bed, one arm crooked up behind his head the other splayed out on his chest, hand rubbing little circles there, he watches his own private peepshow and thanks whoever it was that invented adjoining rooms and connecting doors. Jensen is rummaging through his haul from the day’s shopping trip, pulling out shirts and T-shirts and trying them on, one after another, treating Jared to flash after flash of bare skin. Jared watches as Jensen bends down to pick up another shirt from the pile on his bed, skin tight jeans stretching over the curves of his ass, before straightening to pull the shirt over his head and slowly sliding it down his body. Jared’s hand unconsciously moves lower, skimming the waistband of his jeans as the static in his mind spikes and the slow lazy hum of arousal begins to uncoil inside him. He isn’t hard yet, but he could be, and soon. His eyes follow Jensen’s hands as he smoothes the material down and tugs at the hem of the shirt, twisting his body slightly as he checks himself out in the mirror. He wonders if he should find it strange that watching Jensen put clothes on is turning him on just as much as watching him take them off usually does. Maybe, maybe not. As long as Jensen keeps doing what he is doing Jared doesn’t really care right now.

Jensen must be happy with what he sees in the mirror because he turns, mouth open, ready to speak, but he doesn’t say a word, just takes in Jared’s relaxed form on the bed and raises an eyebrow. Jared can almost feel his gaze as it rakes slowly down his body, stopping at the waistband of his jeans and the hand he has pushed underneath it. Jensen’s eyebrow arches higher and his lips curve into a smile that says _See something you like?_ or perhaps _You starting without me?_ Jared doesn’t try to deny anything, just shifts his hips a little on the bed and grins, feeling the air start to charge up between them as Jensen walks slowly across the room towards him. The look in Jensen’s eyes is pure predator and the loose-limbed swagger of his hips is so fucking sexy that Jared thinks he could quite happily lie here forever, just watching Jensen walk. Or he does until Jensen kneels up onto the bed and slowly crawls up it, straddling his body and then lowering down, his weight like a warm comforting blanket – but one with hands and hips and hot breath against his skin.

Then Jensen’s mouth is on his and Jared stops thinking about anything but the feel of Jensen’s lips and tongue. It’s slow and lazy, no urgency to it, just a long deep kiss that feels like it could go on forever, _should_ go on forever. Jared is lost in it, his world reduced to just this, just him and Jensen, the feel of denim against the palms of his hands as he cups Jensen’s ass and tries to pull him even closer, of Jensen’s mouth on his, the taste of coffee and cigarettes on Jensen’s tongue and a vague awareness of late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows and adding another layer of warmth to the heat he feels on his skin.

They break for air and Jared is torn between how good this feels and how Jensen is damn heavy lying on top of him as he is. He takes one last moment to luxuriate in it then cants his hips upwards in an attempt to get his point across.

"You’re heavy."

Jensen laughs and says, "You weren’t complaining last night." He wriggles his hips downwards, adding pressure to the weight and making Jared’s hips buck upwards in response. Jared has to concede to his point, but he still wants him to move, so he lifts his hips again, combines it with a push of his hands against Jensen’s chest.

"I was kind of focused on the dick in my ass at the time."

That earns him a bite to the shoulder and he play-yelps and pretends to pout. Jensen just widens his eyes in mock-suspicion.

"Oh yeah? Whose dick was that then? Are you cheating on me with the doorman, you bastard?"

Jared knows this game well and his role within it, so he plays the innocent for all he’s worth.

"You mean it wasn’t yours? I coulda sworn... although, it did seem a little bigger than usual."

"Fuck you." Jensen snorts, before leaning down to kiss him, Jared just getting time to say, "If you’re good, I’ll let you," before their lips meet again.

The kiss ends and Jensen raises himself up on to his hands, says "I’ll hold you to that," then he rolls off the bed and stands beside it, his hand stretched out to pull Jared up.

"Let’s go get a beer. I wanna see something other than the inside of a hotel room for an hour or two."

Jared is horny and would be happy to stay right where he is for a while longer, if it meant the two of them getting naked and sweaty while he did, but he’s also hungry. He figures they have the whole evening to themselves for once, so yeah, maybe getting a beer and some food to go with it would be a good idea.

The receptionist at the hotel tells them they can find some decent bars across the river, so they follow her advice, walking leisurely through the jumbled collection of side streets and old market squares, reading menus in restaurant windows before deciding that they’re not looking for anything fancy, just somewhere to while away an hour or two. They find a bar with tables outside on the river bank. It’s pretty busy, crowded with people in smart suits, workers from nearby offices is Jared’s guess, but they manage to grab a table and order some burgers and beer. It’s quiet and relaxed, even with all the people around them and they sit and eat and drink and talk about nothing and everything. It feels good, feels right, feels like they are actually on vacation instead of a promotional trip and right now Jared is sipping from his third beer of the evening, watching the lights go on in the buildings across the river and is pretty damn content.

London is coming to life for a second time as the sun sinks from the sky and the atmosphere changes from the stiff confines of the working day to the messy buzz of night, the dull hum of voices around him getting louder as drinks are sunk and inhibitions lowered. And in his head the static buzz is growing as he watches Jensen leaning on the bar inside, waiting to be served. Tight T-shirt and even tighter jeans hugging the contours of his body, defining his broad shoulders, strong back and perfectly rounded ass. Although, it’s really only Jensen’s ass that he’s focusing on. Jared shifts in his chair, trying to get more comfortable as he thinks about what he said to Jensen earlier in the day, back in the cathedral when he talked about secluded corners and things they could do in them. It’s getting dark now, and the chances of finding somewhere quiet and tucked-away where they can play out a fantasy (or two, or three) are getting higher by the moment and certain parts of his anatomy are becoming very interested in the idea.

Jensen returns from the bar with fresh beers, sets them down and then settles back into his chair across from Jared. Under the table their legs meet at the ankles, and Jared is suddenly hit by the urge to kick off one of his shoes and slide his foot slowly up the inside of Jensen’s leg. So he does, the beer-buzz in his bloodstream and the static-buzz in his brain making it easier to just do it rather than think about whether it’s a good idea or not. Jensen looks at him and shakes his head in amusement, starting to say _what are you doing_ but ending up saying _Oh!_ as the ball of Jared’s foot comes to rest against his crotch and he starts to flex his toes in a way that Jared hopes feels good. And judging by the way Jensen lifts his hips up into it just enough so that Jared can feel he’s getting hard, it does.

"So, I was thinking about fantasies..."

Jared lets the words hang between them, hoping that Jensen will remember what he told him earlier as well, teeth chewing at the inside of his lip as he waits, because, right now, he really wants to find somewhere dark and just secluded enough for them not be seen. The world around him is starting to fade out into fuzzy shapes and indistinct noise and when Jensen shifts forward in his chair and lifts his hips up hard against his foot and then raises his bottle of beer to his mouth, wraps his lips around the neck of it, tilts his head back and swallows the remainder of the contents down in one go, Jared’s world tunnels some more. All he can see now is the way the muscles in Jensen’s throat ripple as they relax and contract and all he wants to do is lean across the table and lick away the trickle of beer that’s spilling from the corner of Jensen’s mouth...

But he doesn’t have to, because Jensen finishes his drink and licks it away himself before he pushes his chair back and stands up, walking away from the bar with a nod of his head that says _you coming, or what?_ , leaving Jared to curse as his foot hits the ground with a bump and struggling to get his shoe back on before he can follow.

He catches up with Jensen as he reaches a small parade of shops, and straight away he sees exactly what he is looking for. There’s a small passage to the side, delivery access for the shops, and just a little ways in there’s a flight of stairs that looks like a fire escape facing out onto the street, meaning there must be a space underneath it where none but the most prying eyes will look. Jared grabs Jensen’s arm and pulls him into the dark space beneath the stairs, pushing him up against the wall and kicking his legs apart just enough to move in between them. He leans in and crushes their mouths together, Jensen’s cry of _What the hell, Jare_ becoming a groan as Jared bites down on his bottom lip and then licks away the sting. He rolls his hips forward, feels Jensen’s rock back in answer, bites and licks at Jensen’s lips, their kisses open-mouthed and desperate, the urgency that was missing back at the hotel missing no longer. Jared can feel the pulse of blood in his veins speeding up, and there’s heat pooling at the base of his spine, beginning to spread up and out. He pulls back because he wants to wait, to focus his attention on Jensen, not on his own desire. His eyes have grown accustomed to the faint light that’s filtering through the stairs beside them and he can see Jensen panting for breath, his pupils dark and wide and his lips bruised and slick. He cups Jensen’s jaw with one hand, slides the other between their bodies, moving it down until he feels the waistband of Jensen’s jeans. He pops the button, pushes his hand under the zip, the teeth sliding apart as he does. He wraps his fingers around Jensen’s cock, giving it a quick stroke that makes Jensen buck his hips and mutter _fuck!_ under his breath.

Jared does it again, a quick stroke up and down, fast and rough, no time for finesse or dragging it out. Jensen moves with him, hips pushing forward as a rhythm is set. Jared leans forward, the pad of his thumb dragging across Jensen’s lips, feeling them part and then the hard ridge of teeth behind. He leans in as close as he can, his lips touching Jensen’s ear, hand still working between them in the same brutal rhythm.

"I want to see you come Jen. I want to see you fall apart right here, where anyone can see you. I thought that I wanted you on your knees with your lips stretched wide around my cock, but this is even better. I want you to forget where we are, forget that someone could walk by and see us any second. I want you to come so hard you see stars. And then I want to go back to the hotel and I want you to let me fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours, will you let me do that Jen? Will you come for me now so I can come for you later?"

Jared feels Jensen nod his head, hears him breathe out _Fuck, yes Jare, yes_ , pushes his thumb further into Jensen’s mouth and feels his tongue wrap around it. He’s ignoring the ache in his balls and the throbbing in his cock and just thinking about Jensen, about how good his cock feels in his hand, hot and heavy and slick with precome and sweat. About how Jensen’s hips are bucking and thrusting into the circle of his fist. About how any minute now they could be discovered and about how he doesn’t care because Jensen is moaning around his thumb, and Jensen’s hands are gripped around his arms tight enough to leave bruises and Jared wants to see it all, he wants to see the moment when Jensen flies apart.

"Come for me, Jensen."

Jensen’s mouth falls open and his head snaps back, the muscles in his throat straining as he lets out a silent cry, his body stiffening as Jared feels his cock pulse in his hand and wet, sticky heat splashes and spills over his fingers and between them. Jared slows the movement of his hand, guides Jensen through the aftershocks, leaning close again to lick the bead of sweat that’s sliding down from Jensen’s brow, running kisses down the side of Jensen’s jaw, down his neck, across his throat and back up again, feeling Jensen’s breath stutter against his skin before their lips meet. Jensen’s eyes are closed and his hands hang limply at his sides. He looks like he’s far away, lost in the moment, so Jared does his best to clean them both up, tucking Jensen back into his jeans, smoothing their clothes so they don’t look quite so much like they’ve been doing what they’ve been doing, the realisation of where they are finally making it through the crackle and hiss in his mind. He takes a step back and, in the dim light, tries to see how good a job he’s done, but he forgets everything again when Jensen’s eyes open and he says,

"Hotel. Now."

Jared’s breath leaves him in a rush as Jensen pushes him into the room and slams him hard against the door as it shuts behind them. The walk back passed in a blur. He can remember Jensen’s hand gripped tight around his arm, urging him to walk faster, dragging him along. He thinks there must have been stairs or an elevator or something but he didn’t notice. All he could think about was the blood pounding inside his veins and the ringing in his ears and the need, want, have, now. Jensen’s hands are already scrabbling at his jeans, pulling them open and down so they pool around his ankles, and then he kisses him, hard and fast and drops to his knees in one fluid movement. He looks up, tongue licking across his lips in a way that would be obscene if Jared didn’t think it was so fucking hot and didn’t want those lips to open up and take him in so badly that he could come just from thinking about it. He opens his mouth to say something, to beg and plead for Jensen to just move forward, to do something, but before he can, Jensen does and it’s hot-wet-ohsofuckinggood and Jared knows straight away that he isn’t going to last long. He has to fight to keep his eyes open because he wants to give in to the feel of it, let it wash him away and drown him in the sensation of Jensen’s teeth skimming the underside of his cock and his tongue swirling around the head and the way he’s riding the movement of Jared’s hips, letting him set the pace and fuck his mouth like he wanted to. But he wants to see it as well, wants to see Jensen’s lips wrapped around him, see the shine of saliva on them, see the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks and how he tilts his head back, changes the angle so Jared can slide in deeper. He feels his cock bump against the back of Jensen’s throat, feels it open for him, feels the bump of Jensen’s nose against his pubic bone as he takes the whole of him down and swallows around him. And Jared feels the rush of it, the roar of static in his mind blanking out everything, sees flashes of colour as his eyes squeeze shut and he comes with a shout, hips jerking as he feels Jensen swallow again and again.

Face flushed and sheened with sweat, eyes closed and lips parted, Jared leans his head against the door behind him and struggles to bring his breathing back to its normal rhythm.


End file.
